


The End of the Verses of Jehan Prouvaire

by jehans



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehans/pseuds/jehans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan gets his heroic ending, but only as the last one left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the Verses of Jehan Prouvaire

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my friend [Caitlin’s](http://likewhiskeyandwine.tumblr.com/) movie headcanon. Really effing sad, be warned.

It was all over, and each of them knew it. It was only a matter of stalling for time, now. Doors and windows shut against them and Jehan felt himself pulled and tugged around and he choked on his own tears, first by Joly into the café, and then by Enjolras away from the door. Bits of debris from the café were crashing around him as though the sky was falling as the others barricaded the doors and destroyed the stairs to try to keep the guards at bay.

Shots were firing in all directions and whoever was standing next to Jehan fell, his dying blood splattering over Jehan’s face and in his mouth. He turned, deliberately not looking to see which of his friends’ blood he could taste, to follow Courfeyrac in pulling himself up to the landing when he heard the crashing apocalypse of the door behind him being broken down. And then there were hands on him again, but not hands that sought to bring him to safety. Not Joly’s hands or Enjolras’ hands, but a stranger’s. He was being pulled and tugged again, backwards, away from his friends.

He was shoved back against the wall, a rough arm held against his throat to keep him there as a group of the National Guard gathered in the middle of the room, pointing their guns toward the ceiling.

Jehan stopped breathing when they fired. His heart stopped, too, when he heard the deafening thuds of his friends falling to the ground above him. He wasn’t crying anymore.

The guards mobilized, all of them except the two pinning Jehan to the wall, climbing up quickly to the second story to find and kill anyone who had survived. Jehan glanced around him. Everyone down here was dead.

He was the last.

More shots fired upstairs. They’d all be gone, now. Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Joly.

Grantaire.

All dead.

He was alone.

Jehan couldn’t remember beginning to scream. Wasn’t aware of when he started fighting against those who held him. But when the other guards came back downstairs, it took four of them to drag him outside.

When he saw Enjolras dangling out the window, blood seeping into his golden hair, he fought ever harder.

Six of them were gripping him now, shoving him down to his knees in the dark, blood-soaked dirt amidst his dead brothers. The barrel of a gun swung towards his head. Someone asked him a question, but he did not hear it. The image of Enjolras bleeding into the red flag of freedom was burned behind his eyes.

He shouted out, though no one was left to hear. No one but those who did not fight, who shut their doors, who did not hear, and the thick silence of death. Nonetheless, he shouted.

“Vive la France!” The words tore as his throat as he screamed. “Long live the future!”

Jehan smelled the gunpowder and tasted the metallic of his own blood before he dropped into blackness.


End file.
